Tonight I saw the newest Star Wars movie in theaters. It’s something that could join because at the beginning of the month one of the other JETs were able to round a group for pre-sale tickets. I couldn’t believe it’d been a decade since the last one came out, and really I only remember seeing Episode I in theaters with my dad and brothers back at the turn of the millennium because afterwards me and my older brother spent more than an hour with fight with stick swords on a sandy volleyball court pretending we were Jedi.

So after avoiding watching almost any trailer I was ready to be blown away by not only a great series, but one of my favorite directors. I also felt morally obligated by the value of Star Wars knowledge instilled in me through my piano teacher.

And it was great, and weird, but the Japanese subtitles were hardly noticeable. Anyone who’s seen a movie with me, though, will know how I react and can make a guess at how that is completely opposite to how Japanese people see movies. I mean, come on, when the Millennium Falcon is blasting away and Finn is matching almost the exact moves of A New Hope how can you not just want to shout with glee. Well, basically I did while trying to contain as much of it as possible pinching the other American sitting beside me and basically lacerating his arm as Han Solo steps onto the walkway. But really no reaction from the crowd, to anything, no cheers, no gasps, no sighs of relief gave me that rare realization of another thing I’m missing in America.

After experiencing it all–and literally all, because lights don’t come on until after the credits–I can say it was a great idea on my part, and I would’ve failed not seeing spoilers. Although, for once I was pretty impressed with the internet’s ability at restraint.

Also, short story to the featured photo. I have know clue who that person is. While I drove with the woman taking the photo, the storm trooper came up beside her and joined in my picture. I was convinced it was one of the guys we were meeting at the theater, and greeted him as such with a, “took you long enough.” It was only during taking the photo when the guy I expected then actually finally walked up beside the photographer that I realized if my life was a scary movie I’d have already been doomed.


Author: dillondavis

Lover of design, printmaking, literature, and travel. Currently living in Tokyo, Japan. Working on projects experimenting with digital media and producing original content.

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